


Almost

by GoodCompany (orphan_account)



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is an idiot, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining, Roger is an idiot, Stupidity, boys are stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 18:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GoodCompany
Summary: There’s something about Roger. Always has been. And, Brian is quite sure, there always will be.Not in a mysterious way, because Roger is quite an open book at times, and Brian probably knows Roger better than he knows himself at times. Probably.-Or Brian really likes Roger. Like really really likes him.





	Almost

The lights go up, Roger’s beat kicks in and Brian smiles. 

His body hums as the stage begins to shake with John’s bass, which sends ripples through the ground and out into the crowd. His fingers itch and snap into action bringing a soft whine from his guitar, as the crowd roars to life, voice upon voice upon voice shouting their approval as the first strains of the song filter out into the heaving mass of people.

It’s loud, almost too loud, but Brian loves it. It makes him feel alive, makes him feel like he’s part of something bigger, something incredible. Something that can’t be stopped.

His fingers press into the fret and he turns slightly, eyes drifting towards Freddie and then John, and then finally to Roger, the smile tugging harder at the corners of his mouth. 

There’s something orgasmic about performing with 10000 plus people screaming and stomping for them and only them, and Brian has to turn back to the crowd, he has to tear his gaze away from Roger back to the throng in front of him. The mass that’s baying and begging for more, until Freddie gives it to them. 

Brian tries and tries to keep his focus on the music; the sounds they’re creating and how Freddie orchestrates the crowd in the most magnificent way possible; but his mind keeps winding it’s way back to the rolling cacophony behind him.

Roger.

Brian’s kryptonite. 

The one person in the entire world who could royally fuck up or make Brian’s day with a single word or look or action. Usually the former in Brian’s vast experience of dealing with the blond haired stick of dynamite. 

-

There’s something about Roger. Always has been. And, Brian is quite sure, there always will be.

Not in a mysterious way, because Roger is quite an open book at times, and Brian probably knows Roger better than he knows himself at times. Probably. 

There’s something about Roger in a frustratingly annoying ‘oh dear god why won’t he make me scream his name that loud at 3am’ way. 

To Brian at least. 

(He’s relatively sure that John isn’t having fantasies about their bandmate given that he’s usually too busy with his wife. And he’s pretty sure that Freddie doesn’t view Roger that way. Anymore. A case of been there, done that and most definitely got the t-shirt.)

Brian’s lost count of the number of times on tour that he’s had to curl up next to John instead of sleeping in his own room due to Roger being particularly loud during sex. And, after nearly 10 years of it, it’s getting old. And boring. And really fucking irritating. 

On those nights Brian swears that John knows how he feels about Roger. There’s always a comforting hand on his arm or an arm slung low around his waist, holding him tight as he fakes sleep. Plus, there was that one time in Philadelphia a few weeks back when Brian was absolutely positive that John had sighed and mumbled something like ‘I wish you’d just bloody tell him’ when he opened the door to him and let him inside. 

As much as Brian would absolutely love to tell Roger that he’s been in love with him for as long as they’ve known each other, he also really bloody likes being in Queen. He actually really fucking loves it if he’s being completely honest and he’d much rather not fuck that up by confessing his undying love for his best friend, his bandmate and drumming god. 

‘Nope.’ He thinks as he twirls John’s words around his mind for the hundredth (thousandth more like) time. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He asks himself one day in a rare quiet moment in a rather nondescript hotel room in a city he’s already seen before. “Well… I could tell him and he could laugh in my face. And I’d have to leave the band. I could tell him, he could smile sadly and pity me. And I’d have to leave the band.”

He hums softly and goes back to reading, or rather, pretending to read whilst he mulls over the pros and cons of telling his best friend that he’d quite like it to be him that Roger takes home after a show for a round of the horizontal handshake.

“I could tell him and he’d grin, say he’s flattered but he loves me as a friend only. And then I’d definitely have to leave the band. I could also tell him and he’d jump my bones there and then, and then I’d be mortified and still have to leave the band.”

He concludes, as he closes his book for the umpteenth and final time after reading all of one solitary paragraph, that no, he absolutely should not tell Roger that he’s in love with him, and that he needs to find someone else and just move on.

‘If only it’s that simple’ he thinks, a mere week later. 

Cause of thought: a semi naked Roger Taylor wandering around their dressing room pre-show looking all sorts of fuckable in his ridiculously tight jeans.

“You know,” Freddie says quietly next to him, eyes trained on Roger as he brushes his hair carefully, “you really should just tell him. He might just surprise you.”

Brian opens his mouth and closes it quickly, not wanting to voice exactly what he thinks (“fuck off Freddie I’m fine”), before he settles on the perfect line: “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fred.”

“Of course you don’t darling.” Freddie smiles wryly. “But you might want to stop staring at his arse in that case. Just a thought.”

He tears his gaze away from the reason of his sleepless nights and empty bed and watches as Freddie strides over to John, who fixes him with a pitiful look.

“Oh for fucks sake.” He grumbles, grabbing his guitar and pretending to tune it. Anything to avoid their gazes (and Roger’s arse). 

Post-show he’s high on life and is maybe (probably) hard from the adrenaline coursing through his body and for once he doesn’t actually care. Tonight, he’s going to get laid if it’s the last thing he does. Whether that’s with Roger or some random groupie he doesn’t really care. (That’s a lie of course).

The first person he runs into backstage is John. John who is sweaty and grinning, and, no Brian. Just no. He’s married. And not Roger.

“Great show.” John shouts for no particular reason, offering up a high 5, which Brian duly swats at. “You killed it Bri.”

“You too Deaky.” Brian grins back. “You too. Gotta go, really need to shower.” 

John cocks his head curiously at him, clearly wanting to say something, but Brian doesn’t give him the chance. He just turns and stalks off towards the dressing room, really hoping that it’s empty for a while yet. He’s horny and could really do with letting off some steam solo style before he heads out into the world in search of a frustration release and his first shag in what feel like months. 

Mercifully it’s empty when he steps inside. And cool. There’s a blast from the fan in the corner and Brian thinks that he’s never been as thankful for the shitty little thing that Freddie insists on having with him at all times as he is now. He stands in front of it for a few seconds, allowing his skin to cool down enough so that he can finally tug his shirt away from his body and peel it off, dumping it somewhere at his feet.

His pants are a whole other story. They do not want to budge at all. He’s managed to unzip them and somehow wiggle them over his hips, but that’s as far as they go as they unceremoniously get stuck somewhere around his thighs and he just sighs. It’s typical really. The one night he’s made his mind up about heading into some dark and disgustingly dingy smoke filled basement is the one night he physically can’t actually get out. 

He breathes in slowly and curses. He knew he should never have bought these damn pants, but at the time he’d thought it was a great idea as they made his legs (and his arse) look divine, and he’d hoped that Roger would notice at some point. He had hoped that that would be tonight. He spends a good chunk of any time on stage directly in front of Roger after all, and he’d expended a great deal of energy shaking said arse in the general direction of the drummer. 

Eventually the pants become loose enough to slide all the way down his legs and he steps out of them, leaving them where they lie, wishing to never see them again if he’s honest. 

He does get laid that evening, he’s really not sure how but he’ll take it. His mind is totally elsewhere during the whole ordeal and his conquest knows it, especially when he calls her by completely the wrong name. Namely Ro. He had somehow managed to stop the whole name coming out of his mouth, but Clare still wasn’t exactly happy with him for some reason.

Brian doesn’t quite see the look that Roger throws him when he wanders into the common room for breakfast. But he does see the one that John levels at him as Roger leaves the room rather suddenly.

“You two are as clueless as each other.” John sighs. 

The exasperation is evident in his voice and makes Brian wince. He’s only ever heard that tone once before and it was over an argument about a song which John ultimately won. 

“What exactly do you mean?” Brian decides to bite.

“You’re in love with him -”

“And pretty boy is in love with you.” Freddie finishes off.

Brian stares at them gobsmacked. Fucking hell. He didn’t see that coming.

“If you two are having me on, I’ll bloody murder you both.” Brian hasn’t even added the milk to his tea yet but he takes a gulp (liquid courage or something similar he reasons) and follows Roger out of the door.

To say that Roger looks wrecked when Brian eventually finds him, is an understatement. He looks like a bloody ghost and Brian feels his heart sink. Roger kinda looks how he feels every single time he hears Roger going at it with some young sprightly woman. 

Brian wonders if this will be a day that is royally fucked up or a day that is somewhere straight from heaven.

“Erm..” A great start if ever there was one. “Rog.. I’m sorry?”

“For what? Being a clueless idiot for 10 fucking years?”

Brian sits next to him. “I don’t think I’m the only one Rog.” He says softly.

Roger chokes in disbelief. “Really? I’ve been in love with you for all that time and you’ve never noticed.”

“It’s not like you did either.”

Roger frowns. “What?”

“Fucking hell. Deaky and Fred are right. We are clueless. Mate, I’m kinda in love with you too. Have been for quite a while now.”

“And they knew? Why didn’t they say something?”

“To be fair Rog, they both told me to tell you quite regularly, but I always thought there was no point as you were very clearly not into me - or so I thought - and it’s not exactly their place.” Brian’s not quite sure why or how he’s being so calm about all this. The man he’s loved for so long has just admitted he feels the same, and Brian is sitting here telling him to go easy on their friends.

He really should be kissing him silly about now.

So he does. 

“I only brought all those girls home to make you jealous, make you say something.” Roger whispers between kisses. “But you’ve always been way too fucking stubborn to do that.”

“You have no idea how much I wanted those girls to be me. But I thought that you didn’t want me, so had no reason to say anything.” Brian mumbles back. 

This very probably isn’t a conversation that they should be having whilst snogging in a public bathroom of their hotel, but Brian really does not care at this point in time. He just wants to keep kissing Roger and his soft lips, and run his hands through the shock of blond hair like he’s always imagined. So he just keeps kissing him until he can’t take it anymore. 

Later that night Brian is screaming Roger’s name at 3am as he falls apart under Roger’s touch.

2 doors down John is curled into Freddie’s side wishing he’d bought some ear plugs, and almost wishing they were still clueless idiots.

Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first Queen fic... I've been writing away in the football fandom for a good number of years now (under a different name) and have only just plucked up the courage to write over here. I've been a longtime anon lurker under fic for a while now, so I know how welcoming you all are.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little mini (somewhat) crack!fic. And if you’d like to leave me a little feedback that’d be great!
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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